


Kamas and Commanders

by redrobinhood



Series: Foxes and Senators [9]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Clone Abuse (Star Wars), Hiding Medical Issues, M/M, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrobinhood/pseuds/redrobinhood
Summary: As far as the galaxy is concerned, Fox is dead. As the last remaining commander of the Coruscant Guard, Thire has taken his place as commanding officer, promoting Jek and the stormtrooper Seeley to serve as his commanders under him. With tensions running high between the clones and the stormtroopers under his command, Thire tries to keep those under him safe as best he can.
Relationships: CC-4477 | Thire/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Foxes and Senators [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888375
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. the clone

**Author's Note:**

> There wasn’t meant to be a romance here when I planned this out, but then there was when I was working on dialogue, so I ran with it and it opened up a bunch of opportunities for the plot going forward. This was also supposed to be a one-shot and here we are.
> 
> The open ending to this story will set up ‘seconds and years’, my next Foxiyo fic, the first chapter of which will release on the same day as the end to this one. So this fic will have an open ending, but the story will reach a conclusion.

Thire closed his eyes and leaned back into the warm water that ran from the shower tap above him. For a few moments, with his eyes closed, he could go somewhere else. Somewhere where his body didn’t ache, where he didn’t flinch when he moved from the scars that cut through his skin, where he still felt whole. In that place, he wouldn’t have been marked like cattle for market by his commanding officers. But only for a few moments. Life always came rushing back.

“Have you been having nightmares?”

“No?” Thire straightened up and turned to face Jek. “None that I can recall at any rate. Pass the soap?”

Jek sighed as he obliged. When Thire had taken the bar of soap from his hands, Jek gestured to a mark on his rib. “See this bruise? You did that, last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Thire turned away from Jek as he began to wash himself, cringing as he passed over the healing brand that wrapped around his left calf. He could feel Jek’s gaze on him, or at least on the same brand that marked his right shoulder blade. If Thire had looked over, he would have seen the same marks on his brother. Just in case they ever forgot what they were.

“Seeley is beginning to worry about you.”

“I don’t quite care for his opinion on the matter.”

“I’m beginning to worry about you.”

Thire closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of the water for a few moments more as the traces of soap ran off before turning off the tap and crossing the room to the bench that held his and Jek’s towels.

Jek followed after him. “I’m serious, Thire.”

“I know you are. It’s just the job getting to me, Jek.”

“That’s a lie. You’re carrying less responsibility now than you did when it was just you and Fox. What’s really wrong?”

Thire took a moment to bury his face in the towel and sigh. “I’m fine, Jek. Really. I’ll be fine.”

Jek was about to protest when another clone entered the showers, nodding to the two men as he passed by. “Commanders.”

“Impulse.” Jek acknowledged, giving Thire time to escape from his questions. Though Jek still followed right on his heels, there were too many men in the barracks for them to continue the conversation. It wouldn’t bode well for their commanding officers to be seen bickering over one’s health.

It had been six months since Fox was shot. Five months since Thire had last seen him face to face. Three days since they’d last talked. But only he and Jek knew about that. As far as the galaxy was concerned, Fox was dead. He’d died guarding Senator Riyo Chuchi from an assassin. Only six beings knew otherwise, that Fox himself had been the assassin’s target. Of those six, only four knew he still lived. Jek had faked Fox’s death by switching him out for a dying brother and counting on the new rotation of medical staff to be none the wiser to their differences. It had worked. Fox was dead. Then CT-5851 was dead, ‘killed’ in a munitions incident. There was no body.

With Fox’s death, the Emperor had turned over the leadership of the Coruscant Guard to Thire. He’d had no choice, Thire had been the last commander of the Coruscant Guard. But he had changed that. He had promoted Jek to the position that Commander Stone had once held, putting him in charge of the riot squad. There had surprisingly been no calls about favoritism. Jek was the highest-ranking officer who had served under Commander Stone as a riot trooper and he had often been the one to lead the squad under Fox’s command. Thire had also promoted the stormtrooper he knew only as Seeley, who had gained his former rank of captain due to his excellence in the stormtrooper training and, mostly, his father’s economic power, to take over Fox’s duties. When Thire had first voiced the promotion to Fox, he had protested, having spent almost the entirety of one year trying to prevent the two from quarreling. Thire had told him that Seeley would keep him in line better than any other man under his command. And Fox couldn’t argue with that.

After the promotions were made official, Seeley had waited in Thire’s office until they were alone. ‘ _Why me?_ ’ He had asked.

 _‘I wanted a new perspective, someone who isn’t afraid to call me out.’_ Thire had shrugged. ‘ _And you’re the only stormtrooper who knows how to aim his blaster._ ’

Seeley had merely glared at him in response. Thire was familiar with his father from the Emperor’s parties back in the days when he was the Chancellor. He was also familiar with the rumors, that some of the good banker Seeley’s children were illegitimate, mothered by the Umbaran secretaries that worked in his banks. Thire thought that was bullshit and that Seeley was just a grey-eyed asshole, Umbaran genetics unnecessary. But he had been right. Seeley had stayed behind in his office after many meetings to call him out, some things rightfully so, others merely pedantic. But he had never argued with him in front of their men. He, Jek, and Thire could have any honest conversation behind closed doors, but they’d made an unspoken pact that they would never disagree in front of the men they led.

Seeley was not in the Guard offices when Thire and Jek arrived, and one of the sergeants informed him that the commander was taking the lead in a spice trafficking bust.

“Good man. Thank you, Sergeant.” Thire had nodded at the trooper as he and Jek parted ways to their own respective offices. While their private quarters in the barracks had been taken away under the Empire, their office spaces remained. Their last bit of privacy. When Thire stepped into his office, he locked the door behind him and removed the stormtrooper helmet, setting it on the desk. This room hadn’t changed at all since the first day he stepped into it, a wide-eyed lieutenant recovering from the injuries he had sustained on Geonosis. It had been Thorn’s office then. Then it had become their office. Then Thorn was gone, and it was only Thire’s. The room was not meant to be the office of the commanding officer of the Guard, but neither was Fox’s, and Thire couldn’t bear to give it up after all this time.

He sunk into his chair, kicking his boots up into the chair beside it that had once been his, and booted up the computer terminal before him, ignoring the onslaught of messages from senators and their staff that opened up before him, and going straight to the folder that contained the messages from his men. How he and Thorn had once scoffed at the idea of a written message. The Empire now required transcription of all comm messages, for ‘recordkeeping’. But it gave Thire something to read while he waited for the onslaught of datapads and the first catastrophe of the day.

The catastrophe came sooner than he expected when the sound of a commotion in the office foyer caught his attention.

Thire sighed and flung his legs from the other chair to stand up, roughly grabbing his helmet as he strode out of his office. There, seven stormtroopers were shouting at a clone captain, who visibly relaxed upon Thire’s entry. “Commander.”

“What’s going on?” Thire asked, leaning against the edge of the desk nearest the group.

“Commander Seeley has been captured.” The sergeant in charge of the squad answered. “They got between us in the fight.”

“So you left him.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“I would.” Thire turned around to glance towards Jek, who had also come out of his office upon hearing the commotion. “I’ll be back in an hour. You lot, with me.”

“Where are we going?” The sergeant asked even as he and his squad fell in behind Thire.

“To take back my commander.”

Commander Ilven Seeley of the Coruscant Guard pulled against the binders that held his hands behind his back. He had not been blindfolded, and his eyes tracked the trandoshan stalking back and forth before him in the small, damp chamber he had been brought to.

“Who’s the rat?” It prodded him again.

“There wasn’t a rat, you idiot.” He hissed. “You think that you can operate out in the open and nobody will notice?” The room didn’t have a door. If he could somehow get the shackles off his ankles, he could flee.

“I think that pretty soon, we will be able to do whatever we would like.” The trandoshan didn’t turn where it had before and made its way to the side of the room. Carefully, it selected an electroprod from a bench that lined the wall. Ilven swallowed hard. “No stormtrooper can stand in ou-.” The trandoshan’s body fell limp to the ground and Ilven’s head whipped around to make eye contact with the blank visor making its way out of the shadows of the doorway. He was almost as disappointed with the sight as he had been at the sight of the electroprod.

“You.”

“Me.” Commander Thire looked over his shoulder as he switched out the magazine on his rifle before making his way around to Ilven’s back. “Your squad is waiting for us outside.”

“You brought _them_ with you?” Ilven pulled his wrists free as Commander Thire loosened the binders, rubbing life back into chaffed flesh.

“Don’t see why I shouldn’t have.” Having loosened the binders from Ilven’s ankles, Commander Thire slipped an arm around his chest and hauled him to his feet before he could protest.

“They’re a bunch of chickens.” Ilven unwillingly threw his arm over Commander Thire’s shoulder and leaned on him as they made their way towards the exit.

“All nat-borns are. You would have never won the war without us.”

He was right, but Ilven didn’t have it in him to concede to a clone. He took in a breath to respond but was saved by a burst of blasterfire and Commander Thire shoving him to his knees on the ground as he fired back, kneeling down to protect him. Ilven had never been this close to a clone before, pressed up against Commander Thire’s chest he could smell the cheap soap that he himself knew from boot camp. When the blasterfire stopped, Thire’s supporting arm fell from his rifle back to Ilven’s waist as he hauled him back to his feet.

He stumbled alongside Thire until they exited the building into a large courtyard, where the seven men who had initially accompanied him sat sullenly in a waiting speeder.

“I will leave the punishment of your squad up to your discretion.” Thire murmured before they reached the vehicle.

Ilven glared at the stormtroopers in the speeder as he climbed in. “Ten men.” Not enough time could have passed for them to forget that they’d lost fellow soldiers that day. “One clone.”

Thire slid into the driver’s seat of the speeder. “Like I said, you would have never won the war without us.”

But while Ilven expected to feel the cold rush of anger in his gut, as per usual when Commander Thire spoke, it never came. The man had used his own body to shield him without a second thought, after coming to save him when none of his own men would. He could have taken the opportunity to let Seeley die and be rid of him. And yet.

Thire flipped through the datapad Seeley had provided him on the gang whose leadership he had almost entirely wiped out the day before. One of his sergeants had been keeping track of them months ago until they fell off the radar, rebranded under a new name that one of Jek’s lieutenants had been collecting data for from his sergeants. The files would have to be combined.

Thire grabbed his helmet from the desk and put it on out of habit as he walked out of the door. Not wearing it in his office was rule breaking enough, he wouldn’t flaunt it in front of his men, or give them reason to file complaint against him. Jek’s office was on the far side of the room from Thire’s, with Seeley’s office in the middle. For that reason, Thire was crossing in front of it when he heard his name and froze midstep as Seeley’s voice carried out to him.

“… Thire and I, we’ve never gotten along. We’ve been at each other’s throats since my first day here. But you know what, that doesn’t matter when it comes down to it. We can set aside our personal difference for the sake of Coruscant. And he’s a damn fine leader. I hate the man, but if I could choose, I’d have him be the one to guard my back every time.”

Suddenly very grateful for his helmet, Thire turned and walked back into his office as if he had forgotten something. The door had barely shut behind him when his helmet hit the desk once more and he inhaled sharply as he ran a gloved hand through his hair as he tried to reconcile his thoughts.

This felt wrong.

“Thire?”

Thire’s head snapped around to find a helmetless Seeley standing behind him. “Seeley. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s only been a few seconds.”

He’d done it again.

“Your headache is back?”

“Yes.” Thire lied. Not entirely untrue. The headaches and the forgetfulness that had persisted under the control of the Emperor had died down now that he no longer served the man day and night, but they had never fully gone away. “How did you know I’ve been having headaches?”

“I asked Jek what the hell was wrong you with. He said you’ve been having migraines.”

“Something like that.” Thire gestured to his guest chair as he walked to his own. “What did you want to speak about?”

Seeley reached into his helmet before setting it down beside Thire’s. “I know you don’t have much access to medications.” He pressed the bottle of anti-inflammatories into Thire’s hands. “Consider this my thank you for yesterday.”

Thire made the effort to shut his jaw before Seeley realized how stunned he was. “Seeley.”

“That’s not all.” Seeley shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “Thire, could we spar sometime?”

Thire blinked for a few moments as he processed Seeley’s request. “Why?”

Seeley found a spot over Thire’s shoulder to stare at. “I never liked you. You’re the best shot in the Guard, you’re cocky, the Emperor favors you, and you’re a clone. You’re like, the perfect clone.” He closed his eyes. “And I cannot reconcile that version of you with the man who saved me yesterday.”

Thire fumbled for a response. “I’m not cocky.”

Seeley opened his eyes to fix Thire with a look of disbelief. “You ran into a building full of criminals to save me just because you could.”

“Anyone in my position would have.”

“I wouldn’t have. If our roles were swapped, I would’ve let them kill you.”

“Ah.” Thire fell silent as he tried to understand. “I guess that’s the difference between clones and everyone else.”

“I guess so.” Seeley shook his head before standing. “I should be going.”

“Tomorrow after work?”

Seeley blinked blankly at him.

“To spar.” Thire elaborated.

“Yes. Yes, I would like that.”

When the door shut behind Seeley, Thire let his guard down, falling back in his chair and bringing up the bottle of anti-inflammatories to examine it. When he concluded that it was a far stronger dose than he could have ever hoped to receive without grievous injury, he set it down and buried his face in his arms.

“You’re telling me that you spar, work, and sleep in the same clothes?” Seeley couldn’t have kept the disgust out of his voice if he tried, and he wasn’t trying.

“They’re not the same blacks.” Thire scoffed, continuing to strip his armor off. “I have five pairs, fresh pair every morning.”

“You wear underwear, right?”

Thire stopped to fix Seeley with a look of repulsion. “Of course I do, what, do you think we clones-?” He stopped when Seeley held out a handful of fabric towards him.

“They’re clean. I forgot to take out my clothes from yesterday, I’ll wear those.”

Thire hesitantly took the clothes and unfurled them in his hands. “Thank you, but I can’t wear this.”

“Why not? We have a similar build.” Seeley continued to undress without glancing Thire’s way. “The pants may be a little big on you, but there’s a tie.”

“Not the pants, the, um.” Thire stopped when he realized he didn’t know the name for the shirt he now held.

“Tank top?” Seeley stopped, taking a step over towards Thire, who kept his eyes lowered for fear of having to look at the disdain he imagined in Seeley’s gaze. “Because of the brand.” He spoke far softer than Thire had heard him speak before. The Empire’s marking of their clone troopers wasn’t public knowledge, it would have made even some of the more inclined citizens cringe, but shared showers and shared workout spaces had made them common knowledge to the stormtroopers.

“They’re healing poorly.” Thire confessed. “I don’t want to risk mat burn on it.”

“I’ll wrap it for you. Take your shirt off.”

Thire obeyed silently, sitting down on the locker room bench and grimacing once his chest was bared. He’d never wanted to admit weakness to Seeley, and here he was, baring his scars for him. He imagined that Seeley’s gaze would be tracing the deep knotting on his lower back when he returned with a long wrap of thick bandage. If Seeley did notice, he didn’t say anything as he passed the bandage around Thire’s torso and shoulder, forcing him to move a few times to ensure that it wasn’t too tight. When the wrap was secured, Seeley paused for a moment as if he wanted to say something, before moving away as if he had thought better of it. Thire sighed and lay a hand on the bandage poking out from under the fabric before moving to take off the pants of his blacks. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“I wish I knew.” Seeley scoffed. “I think I liked it better when I hated you.”

“Then why not continue that?” Thire pulled on the sweatpants, tucking the tank into them. Despite it, the clothes still felt too loose.

“I don’t know.” Seeley walked around to stand before him. “I guess it feels wrong after you saved my life. Besides, I’ve learned more about you in three days than I learned in a year.”

“And what have you learned?” Thire asked as he rose to stand before him.

“You’re not infallible for one. You’re kind, even though you don’t think you are.” Seeley’s eyes darted down to Thire’s inner arm. “And you have tattoos.”

Fox had once allowed a piece of contraband to be kept. A few weeks after his ‘death’ Thire had found himself laying on a brother’s bunk as they traced out outlines of a triangle, a fox’s head, and a circle side by side above the crease of his elbow. “My brother did them.”

“For Fox, Commander Stone, and?”

“Commander Thorn. He was my mentor. He’s the reason I’m where I am today.” He was also the reason Thire’s ARC kama lay in his desk drawer, too painful to look at.

Seeley’s brows drew together as he thought over the implication. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad he and Stone are dead, they never had to watch our Republic fall.” Thire spat out before he could stop himself. When the gravity of what he said hit him, he closed his eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Let’s go spar.” Maybe Seeley was feeling friendly enough to not turn him in for treason.

“How many people have you lost? Loved ones that is.” Seeley asked when they were on the floor.

Thire scoffed before answering with a fist. “Nearly all of them, not that that’s unusual for a clone. All of my batchmates except Jek, my first squad, Thorn, Stone.” He hesitated. “Fox.” Seeley tried to use the moment of hesitation to strike a blow to Thire’s rib, only for Thire to block the punch and kick his foot out from under him. “Foundation, Seeley.”

Seeley scrambled back to his feet. “Damn, you’re strong.”

“You’ve never sparred with a clone before, have you?”

“No.” Seeley threw another punch towards Thire’s torso, only to find himself on the ground once more.

“We can take a hit.” Thire held out his hand, pulling Seeley to his feet. “Hold up your arms in a defensive position, watch how my feet move when I strike.”

“Remember I’m not a clone, I can’t take a hit.” Seeley chuckled nervously as he obeyed.

“I’ll just tap you. Watch my feet.” Thire halted his motion before he struck Seeley. “Watch again. Line of movement. If you can understand it, you can predict your opponent’s moves through watching their hips.”

A look that Thire didn’t understand washed over Seeley’s face. He concluded that it was disgust. “Is there anyone else I can look besides your hips?”

“Anywhere, if you don’t want to improve.” Sensing an opportunity for revenge when Seeley’s gaze fell, Thire struck a gentle blow against Seeley’s neck, sending the man stumbling to the floor in a coughing fit. “But you also have to watch your opponent’s hands.”

“You’re an ass.” Seeley coughed out.

“And here I thought you said that I was kind.”

“Kind of an ass.” Seeley rejected Thire’s extended hand to push himself back to his feet. “Is that what they teach you commanders, dirty tricks?”

“I wasn’t made a commander.” Thire took Seeley’s hands in his and pushed his feet into a stronger stance. “I came to Coruscant a lieutenant. But Commander Thorn disagreed with that, and here I am today.”

“That’s more human than being assigned your rank, isn’t it?”

Thire’s lip curled as he glared at at Seeley before taking a step back. "That’s an anti-clone sentiment. We are human. We still bleed if cut. We break, we shatter, we bleed out; that’s pretty human.”

“That’s not what I meant-.” Seeley let his arms drop as he tried to speak, only for Thire to use the opportunity to send him crashing to the floor once more, Thire’s leg pinning his shoulders down.

“No, it’s perfectly clear what you meant, and I’ll concede to the point you were making. We clones are human, but we don’t have humanity in our bodies.”

“Thire.” Seeley protested, still unmoving under his leg.

“Don’t. I’ve accepted my place in the galaxy.” Thire stood, allowing Seeley to sit up. “But I don’t think you have. Get up, let’s go again.”

Thire slowly took off the shirt of his blacks, careful not to disturb the bandage that Seeley had placed there earlier that day. The first one had been discarded after sparring, but after they had showered, Seeley had insisted on another one and Thire had lost the strength to argue with him over it. Now, he was almost grateful that he hadn’t protested. The chaffing of his blacks on the wound had been impeded, and for once his shoulder wasn’t burning like it did at the end of the day.

“Riyo called today, while you were gone.” Jek approached with a content smile. “They’re doing well. Says they’ve even got a proper kitchen table now.”

“Good, the heathens.” Thire said as he tossed the shirt into the laundry bin under his bunk.

“Who wrapped you up?” Jek inclined his head towards the bandage. “This is not our grade of fabric.”

“Seeley did, after sparring.”

“Now that just proves my point that you two can’t be in a room without fighting.”

Thire shook his head as he chuckled. “He’s okay. Though we did argue, while we were fighting.”

“Sounds about right.” Jek reached over to clasp Thire’s bare shoulder. “Do you want to share a bunk tonight?”

“Not until that bruise goes away.” Three days later, the mark Thire had made on Jek’s chest was still dark and purple.

Jek nodded gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Jek.”

Thire watched Jek walk away before he lay down on his side, pulling up the thick blanket that he had slept under for the past five years. The pillows in the barracks were new, the same ones that the barracked stormtroopers had received, but new blankets had not been deemed necessary. At this point, Thire didn’t think he wanted to give it up anyways. He knew exactly where his fingers fit in the threading seams, where he could run the bare threads between his finger pads and think about the new side of Seeley he was seeing. Before he fell asleep, he came to the conclusion that this charade of friendship would be up the moment Seeley’s gratefulness had run its course, and there was no use in getting attached to things he could never have.


	2. and

Thire sat in his desk chair with legs propped up as he read over the datapad in his lap. Under the datapad a black piece of leather was draped across his legs, his fingers playing with the Coruscant Red liner as he read over the words he had written of the Emperor’s treachery, of the missing pieces in his mind. The memories that had been lost to the Emperor’s manipulation were still gone, no clearer with time. But also, no more fragmented with time, though still larger and more numerous than the brief losses of reality that now sprinkled his week. As long as they didn’t occur in combat, not that he ever had a chance to leave his office anymore except for an emergency, he could deal with them, small as they were. Whenever Thire thought that he may have forgiven the Emperor, or at least moved on from the trauma, he went back to his entry for the night before Fox was ‘killed,’ when the Emperor let him watch as he dialed the bounty hunter who had fired the near-fatal shot before forcing him to beg for Fox’s life, only to be denied. That memory too had been briefly stolen from him, until a mention of Darth Vader at dinner had jogged the missing pieces together.

Thire shut off the datapad and leaned his head back to sigh. That had been the last time he had seen Vader. After that, the man had disappeared back to the nether he had once emerged from. And Thire could live with that. His once-high opinion of the burned Jedi knight had been beaten out of him.

When a knock rang on his door, he set the datapad and the kama back into the drawer before answering. “Come in.”

Jek and Seeley stepped inside, the former balancing two takeout cartons, the latter only carrying one. Thire closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the scent of food as they sat down in the chairs opposite him.

“Your usual.” Jek said as he passed over the carton.

“You’re my favorite batchmate.”

“Only living batchmate, Thire.” Jek said, ignoring the uncomfortable look on Seeley’s face.

“Yes.” Thire opened the carton and reached for the utensils Jek had brought. “Favorite.”

The commanders fell silent for a while as they began to eat. It was a ritual whose formation was never intended. One day they ate in separate offices, the next, Thire’s. Thire had his suspicions on how it had begun, Jek wanting to socialize and Seeley wanting to maintain the illusion of a cohesive leadership, but he had never voiced them.

“Thire,” Seeley began the conversation. “Tell me, how does a clone end up with a taste for Pantoran food?”

“I worked with former senator Riyo Chuchi on many occasions. When I stayed the night, she would ‘force’ me to eat dinner with her and any other guardsmen present.” Fox. He would eat dinner with her and Fox. “I guess that’s given me a palate for it.”

Seeley’s brow knit in an emotion Thire couldn’t read. “Were you and the senator close, may I ask?”

Jek froze food halfway to his mouth as he waited for Thire’s response.

Thire didn’t skip a beat. “Professionally so. Nothing more.” And if Thire didn’t think he was actively losing his mind, he could’ve sworn he’d seen Seeley’s shoulders relax. “Have either of you seen the new Pantoran senator around?”

“Not really,” Jek said. “I think all the senators are keeping to themselves nowadays. Pity we had all the fun before Seeley showed up.”

“Oh, I suppose I’m the catalyst for the fun ending.”

“Only the institution that you stand for.”

“You mean the institution that your kind put into place?”

Thire nearly choked on his food. “Our kind?”

And there was that deflation. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“As somebody who scored highly in interspecies biology, that is not an acceptable way to refer to organisms outside of your morphic form or sentience.” Thire wagged his utensil like the Kaminoan professor he’d learned under had waved his datapad.

“Thire wanted to be a medic.” Jek explained.

Seeley’s head tilted to the side. “Why did you change your mind?”

“I didn’t want to hurt my brothers and it seemed all the medical professionals did on Kamino was hurt us.” He watched Jek spin his hand at him. “Then I was hurt, on Geonosis.”

Jek spun his hand a little faster. “And?”

Thire sighed. “And the medics made it hurt worse, they were not gentle. So I was vindicated.”

“You could say you were a little hurt by it.”

Thire slowly shook his head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jek dramatically turned towards Seeley. “All he and Thorn did for weeks was sit in this office and complain about not being allowed to snort spice for the pain.”

“We may have been a little dramatic.” Thire admitted.

Seeley spoke carefully. “Considering what I’ve seen of what they give you guys, I’m not surprised.”

Thire waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s fine, we’re used to it.”

But the strange look in Seeley’s eyes told Thire that he was not.

Thire was becoming rapidly acquainted with Seeley’s new expressions as he pinned him down on the mat. He could feel Seeley’s breath on his skin as they stared at each other, face to face. And there was the look Seeley gave him in the locker room, the one that Thire had decided had to be a form of pity.

“Better.” Thire said before straightening up, extending a hand to Seeley, and helping the other man to his feet. “Much better than a few weeks ago.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“I mean it, Seeley. You’re old enough to not be babied.”

“My father disagrees.” Seeley laughed bitterly. “I wanted to tour, he wanted me here.”

“There’s something you have in common with us.” Thire dropped into a ready stance. “We all expected to serve on the front lines.”

Seeley mirrored him. “But maybe guarding the home front is a nobler post?”

Thire’s mouth twisted. “I nearly died in the Battle of Coruscant, it wasn’t as glamorous as they make it out to be.”

“What was your post?” Seeley struck first.

Thire turned to the side, catching Seeley’s wrist in his hand and tugging him forward. “I was one of the ones who lost the Chancellor.”

Seeley stumbled, bringing up his free arm to block Thire’s fist. “Well, that sucks!”

“Doesn’t it?” Before Seeley could notice the absence of a grip on his wrist, Thire stepped into the blind spot Seeley had created with his raised arm and snaked his arms around his neck. “You should’ve grabbed my wrist.”

“I know.” Seeley gasped as he struggled, bringing them both to the floor before finally tapping out. “Maybe I like being choked.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. But you seem to like going for the neck.”

Once again, Thire pulled Seeley up to his feet. “I like ways to take my opponents down as fast as I can. If I ever learn to trust you, I’ll teach you three quick and easy ways to shatter a being’s kneecap.”

Seeley’s hand didn’t let go. “What does trust have to do with it?”

“I like to keep my own kneecaps in one piece.” Thire let his arm fall, the movement causing Seeley’s hand to fall from his. “Is something on your mind?”

“I’m not sure.” When Seeley fell into a ready stance, Thire shook his head.

“We’re done. You’re getting tired. It’s getting late, I need to eat before the cafeteria closes.”

Seeley’s brow furrowed. “I thought they closed early today.”

Thire raised his arms to the back of his neck and took in a deep breath as he wracked his mind for places where he could eat on the few credits he had. “Shit.”

“You could come back to my place.”

Thire was unable to hide the look of surprise on his face as he turned to Seeley. “You would disgrace yourself by having a clone over for dinner?”

Seeley shrugged. “You’re my commanding officer. You could keep these clothes on for now if you like”

“I’m not allowed to be in public without my uniform.” Even here, wearing the extra pair of clothes Seeley brought for him to wear was pushing the rules.

“Is this a yes?” Seeley prodded.

And Thire gave in. “If you will have me, then I accept.”

Another look that Thire had also classified under pity lit up Seeley’s face. “Then let’s go, I’m starving.”

“That’s a poor excuse for your inadequacy today.” Thire ribbed as they walked back to the lockers.

Thirty minutes later, he found himself setting his helmet down on an entryway table as Seeley locked the door behind him.

“I know it’s small but make yourself at home.” Seeley brushed past him into the kitchen.

Thire shook his head as he took in the living space before him. “Compared to a senator’s apartment, I suppose. This is all your space?”

“Well my dad owns the building, so I guess it’s his space really. I mean, I pay enough to cover the expenses. I want to move out, but without hazard pay the Empire doesn’t pay the stormtroopers enough to buy furniture or food or-.”

“But you don’t share it.”

Seeley stopped with the fridge door still open and cast a sad look back at Thire. “No, I don’t.”

Thire slowly walked over to the windows and looked down at the bustling city below. “That sounds nice.”

“It’s lonely. Do you eat Alderaanian food?”

“I eat whatever I’m fed, Seeley.” He turned back from the window. “But I have run security for Senator Organa enough to have a good idea of their cuisine. It’s good.”

“I’ve got leftovers.” Seeley held up a pan. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll have them heated.”

“Fancy.”

“I don’t own a nanowave.” Seeley laughed as he turned the stove on. “Do you want a drink?”

“Please.” Thire walked over to nestle himself in the corner of the kitchen cabinets, out of Seeley’s way. He accepted the bottle handed to him and took a sip before looking at the label. “For an expensive drink, it tastes the same as a Seventy-Nine’s beer. Wait.” He held up his hand before Seeley could respond. “Let me guess, your dad owns the company.”

“My grandfather.” Seeley sighed. “It’s really not an expensive brand, in the moderate range, sure. It’s meant to be a nicer alternative to…” He titled his head at Thire as he trailed off. “What’s the most expensive drink you’ve had?”

“Corellian nectar, I suppose. I didn’t pay for it though. It was offered to me.” Riyo had been attempting to drain her liquor cabinet of all the drinks she had been gifted over her years on Coruscant. “I don’t buy anything over three credits, I can’t.”

“Move for a second.” Seeley reached down into the cabinet that Thire had been leaning on and brought out a small flask and two glasses.

“What is that?” Thire asked as Seeley carefully poured the drinks.

“A gift from my grandfather. I’ll tell you after you try it.” Seeley held out a glass to Thire. “I’ll start mine after I finish cooking.”

Thire hesitantly took the cup. “It’s strong?”

“Very.”

Thire took a small sip of the drink as Seeley stirred the food into the pan. “Oh.”

“Tarisian ale.”

Thire slowly set the drink on the counter as best he could with his swimming head. “You did not just let a clone trooper drink Tarisian ale. That cost more credits than I did!”

Seeley shook his head. “You’re not a waste, Thire. Or an object.”

“I’m property, Seeley. Nothing more to it.” But for a moment, the property wanted nothing more than to pin Seeley to his cheap countertop and- Thire rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He was drunk and stressed. That’s all.

“Do you need to sit down?” He felt Seeley’s hand fall gently onto his shoulder. “I should have warned you, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t touch me.” He almost regretted it when the soft pressure was gone. He took a few more deep breaths before lowering the hand. “I’m sorry. It was just a headrush.”

“I was worried there, Thire.” Seeley took a step back to stir the food. “I should have warned you. It’s strong. I mean, I drink a lot and it’s still too strong for me.”

“Maybe if you drunk less you could afford your own place.”

Seeley’s expression wavered between insult and amusement. “Says the man with a hundred roommates.”

“I have never claimed to not be a hypocrite.” Thire was just sober enough to know that he was grinning at Seeley, but not sober enough to stop himself. But he was sober enough for his expression to fall when he remembered where he was. “I can’t finish this ale, Seeley. I have to be able to get back to the barracks later.”

“You could stay here if you like. My couch isn’t the best but it’s something.”

Thire thought for a moment before taking a sip of the bottle of beer, leaving the ale for later. “Okay.”

Thire woke up on the couch in Seeley’s living room to the sun streaming in through the window and the smell of fresh caf.

“I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.” Seeley called over.

“You seem to have bounced back well.” Thire retorted as he slowly sat up.

“I drink more than I should. I’ll have breakfast in just a few minutes.”

“Mind if I use your shower?”

Seeley faltered for words. “Sure. There’s a four-in-one soap in there and a spare razor under the sink if you’d like to shave. Shaving cream on the counter.”

“What’s the fourth?”

“Sorry?”

“Shampoo, conditioner, body wash. What’s the fourth component?”

“Hell if I know.” Seeley laughed. “I didn’t know you clones knew about anything but bar soap.”

“And you’d continue to think so if you saw the barracks.”

When Thire had briefly washed the smell of the training mat from his skin, though there was nothing to be done for his blacks, he returned to a small breakfast and a quiet Seeley. The new meekness stayed throughout the meal and the drive back to the Senate, and Thire didn’t see Seeley until the end of the day when a quiet knock on his door interrupted his closing routine.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as the distressed man came into the room.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to request that you transfer me out of the guard.”

Thire blinked for a few moments in confusion. He couldn’t remember if he had said something horrible to him the night before. Perhaps that had been the cause for the silence. “Why?”

Seeley’s face twisted into a look of pain. “Because I’ve fallen in love with a fellow guardsman, sir.”

Thire felt relief take him for a moment. That was something he could deal with. “There’s no rules against dating in the ranks. There probably should be, but as long as they are not under your direct command, I don’t see a problem with it.”

“They’re not, he’s not. I’m afraid he’s my superior officer.”

“Commander Seeley, you have no superior officer except-” _me_. His lips moved to form the word, but no sound came out.

“I’m sorry.”

And everything fell into place.

“I know this must be very uncomfortable for you and I tried to get over it but it’s starting to affect my work and I just can’t function anymore with this bottled up inside.” The words spilled from Seeley’s lips as fast as he could form them. They barely registered to Thire as he slowly stood and crossed the room to stand before him. He was horribly aware of his own heartbeat ringing through his body as he placed his arms around Seeley’s hips and leaned forward to gently press his lips to Seeley’s. Seeley moved to meet him and for a few moments Thire was all too aware of the scent of Seeley’s soap. Then Seeley slowly withdrew to look at him with pleading eyes that made his stomach turn. When Seeley leaned back in, Thire met him, trying to allow himself to relax and enjoy the sensation as Seeley wrapped his arms around Thire’s shoulders. He didn’t let go when they pulled apart, their proximity forcing Thire to meet his eyes.

“For how long?” Seeley asked, pleading.

“I don’t know. Maybe last night, maybe longer, I haven’t allowed myself to feel anything in…” since Thorn died. “In a very long time.”

There was that look that he had once mistaken for pity. “And now?”

“I don’t know.” He could feel Seeley’s fingers gently stroking the back of his neck. “How long have you loved me?”

“I’d say when you saved my life, but I’d be lying. I think I knew in the locker room, when I saw your back. All I wanted to do at that moment was pull you close and heal you.”

Thire brought his hands up to take hold of Seeley’s wrists as he closed his eyes to focus on the sensation on the back of his neck and Seeley’s elevated breathing before him before he gently removed the hands from his neck. “I am not worthy of your love.”

“That’s not how love works, Thire.” Seeley squeezed his hands.

Thire opened his eyes to a knock on his door as his hands fell from Seeley’s grip. “One moment, please.” He turned back to face Seeley and lowered his voice. “Could we finish this conversation in private?”

“I’ll shut down my computer and you can come back to my apartment, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yes, that’s acceptable.” Thire backed away from Seeley so that he could don his helmet. “Come in.”

The nat-born sergeant who had once borne the news of Fox’s death to Thire stepped inside, tensing up at Seeley’s presence. “Commander Thire, Commander Seeley.”

“Sergeant.” Seeley acknowledged with a helmeted nod.

“What brings you here?” Thire asked, hoping to break the tension in the room.

“Annual inventory, sir. I thought that you would want to be the first to receive a copy.” The sergeant pulled out the pile of flimsiplast from under his arm and offered it to Thire. “I have the second copy you requested on my desk, do you want that one too?”

“Right,” Thire said as he took the offered flimsi. “The second copy you’ll want to give to Sergeant Kilo. He keeps track of any non-existent betting on such matters.”

The sergeant’s shoulders bobbed. “You run a tight ship, sir.”

“Inflammable.”

“Thire?” Seeley cut in.

“I know what I said, Seeley. Inflammable as a tank of rhydonium.”

“He tilted his helmet to the left, Commander.” The sergeant spoke up, then continued when both of his commanders’ helmets turned towards him. “Commander Fox used to do the same when he was ribbing us.”

“I’m going to be very conscious of that now, Sergeant.” Thire stepped back to lay the flimsiplast pile on his desk. “Thank you for your fast report.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Good evening.” The sergeant was gone before Thire turned back around, leaving him and Seeley alone once more.

Seeley stepped towards the door. “I’ll grab my things.”

Thire swirled the glass of water he had asked for in his hand as he waited for Seeley to take a seat beside him. This had been the same couch he had slept on the night before, too drunk to care where he fell. But he wouldn’t drink tonight for fear of clouding his already hazy emotions.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Seeley asked as he finally sat down beside him, still leaving a respectful amount of room between the two of them.

“A few weeks ago, you called me a perfect clone. That’s something Stone used to say to me. The Kaminoans did something right, and for years I have had no concern but the Republic. But now, something’s changed. I just don’t know if I have.”

“Have what?” Seeley prodded.

“Changed. But also, I don’t know if I have the capacity to love. I don’t want to hurt you if I find out that I can’t.”

“Thire, the bruises on my body are evidence to the contrary. And you should remember from interspecies biology that all sentient beings have the capacity to love.”

“I am not sentient, Seeley.” Thire watched the other man’s face distort into disgust. “Towards the end of the war, there was a law passed banning the purchase of sentient clones. That didn’t stop production on Kamino. I’ve told you, I’m property.”

“I don’t care. I want you as you are, sentient or not.”

“And I don’t understand why you would want _me_. There are millions upon millions of men just like me.”

Seeley leaned forward to take his free hand. “But there’s only one Thire. The rest don’t matter to me.”

Thire tore his eyes away from the sight as he tried to hide the tears rising in his eyes. “You’ll be destroying yourself.”

Seeley squeezed his hand. “I’ll take that chance.”

“You shouldn’t.” Thire had seen for himself the destruction the Empire wrought on those who loved its property.

“Is that an order, Commander?”

Thire squeezed his eyes shut, finally allowing a few tears to dislodge. “No, it’s not.” Not wanting to remove his hand from Seeley’s grip, he set his glass of water on the floor so he could wipe away his tears.

“Can I touch you?” Wasn’t he already touching him?

“Yes.” Thire consented.

Seeley reached over to turn Thire’s face back towards him and tenderly wiped the tears from his cheeks before allowing his hand to rest there, cupping his face. Thire found himself almost unconsciously leaning into it, seeking the comfort it brought. As if he knew the peace his touch was bringing, Seeley scooted himself closer to Thire until he could press the front of his bicep to Thire’s shoulder. “You know, you seem to have an awful lot of opinions about what I should do for a man who won’t tell me what he wants.”

He wanted to die for the Republic, a little voice inside of him said. But there was no longer a Republic to die for. “I want to kiss you again.” Just for the hell of it, he told himself as Seeley obliged him. But here, with Seeley’s hands and body pressed against him, he felt safe. Safe enough to finally allow Seeley to push him down and lay on top of him, one hand partially supporting his weight, the other buried in Thire’s hair.

When Seeley stopped, propping himself up on his elbows to look down, Thire didn’t relinquish his grip around his waist. “Are you alright, Thire?”

“This, this is better than kissing.”

“Are you touch starved?” Seeley slowly lowered himself back down onto Thire’s chest, their armor creaking with the motion, and lay his head on Thire’s breast.

As he readjusted his grip around Seeley’s waist, the pressure reminded Thire of the time he had used his body to shield the other man’s. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Then you probably are.”

“I don’t know. I hug my brothers, sleep back to back with them, but this feels different.”

“What does it feel like?”

“I feel safe.” He finally admitted.

Seeley was quiet, from this angle Thire couldn’t see his face, couldn’t read his emotions. So instead he closed his eyes and focused on the weight over his body, sinking into the couch cushions. He had been pinned before under rubble, but this was far softer than sheared metal and there was no ache. In the end, or what felt like it, Thire fell into sleep with Seeley still laying across his breast.

When he woke, he was surprised to still find Seeley there, pressed between his body and the back of the couch, his forehead resting against Thire’s breastplate. He stirred when Thire did, blinking puffy eyes in the light of the morning sun that streamed in the window. “How long have you been awake?” He groaned.

“Just now.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Superior genetics.”

Seeley let out another groan as he shielded his eyes from the sun. “Well, my inferior genetics need caf to function. Do you want some?”

“Please.” Thire untangled his limbs from Seeley’s and rose from the couch. Despite the thermal insulation of his blacks and the further laying that his armor provided, he felt cold. He followed Seeley into the kitchen, taking the spot in the corner that he had before as he watched Seeley measure out the grinds and water for the caf.

“I’ll request a transfer out of the Guard as soon as possible.” Seeley said once he had closed the lid. “I don’t want my presence to make you uncomfortable.”

There was a sinking feeling in Thire’s chest. “Wait, you don’t want to…”

“You do?”

Thire uncrossed and crossed his legs as he fumbled for words. “I’ve never allowed myself to have friends, relationships. But sleeping beside you felt right, I know that. Don’t request a transfer. Stay. With me. We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay.” Seeley’s face broke into a beaming smile before his brows quirked together. “Is that an order, Commander Thire?”

“Yes, it is, Commander Seeley.”

“Ilven, please. Seeley is too formal for you here.”

Thire leaned further back against the counter. “If we’re using our first names, mine’s CC.”

“And here I thought it was ‘Commander’.” Seeley walked over to loop his arms over Thire’s shoulders.

Between the slight height Seeley had on him and his relaxed stance, Thire leaned his head back to look Seeley in the eye. “You could call me that if you like.”

Any response of Seeley’s was lost to the beep of the caf maker as it finished its brew. “I’ll remember that.” Seeley promised as he rinsed out the mugs they had used the morning prior.

And for the first time, Thire had something to lose.


End file.
